


A Carriage Conversation

by LuxKen27



Series: The Best Friends You'll Ever Have [28]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Community: babysitters100, Family Issues, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxKen27/pseuds/LuxKen27
Summary: Post-canon. On Christmas Eve, Stacey and Sam compare notes about their broken (and re-formed) families.
Series: The Best Friends You'll Ever Have [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/6132
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8
Collections: BSC December Fandom Fest 2019





	A Carriage Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER:** The _Baby-sitters Club_ concept, storyline, and characters are © 1986 – 2000 Ann M. Martin/Scholastic Corporation. No money is being made from the creation of this material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Stacey pulled her heavy wool coat tighter around herself. “Can you please remove this thing already?” she asked, shifting a shoulder to touch the scarf tied around her eyes.

“In a minute,” Sam promised, clasping her upper arms and holding her still. “Your surprise is almost ready…”

Stacey chewed her lip, but didn’t say anything. She had been grateful to learn that her old friend was still in the city. Their winter break from classes had started the week before, and she’d been sure that Sam Thomas, like almost everyone else who lived on campus at Columbia, had immediately headed home to spend the holidays with family. She was set to spend Christmas with her dad in New York before going to Stoneybrook to celebrate the New Year with her mom, but she’d been in no great hurry to leave school, so she’d stayed put in her dorm.

Ever since her father had remarried, it had been…different, going home to him. She still loved him, of course, but he had a new wife and two young children now, and Stacey couldn’t help but feel like an interloper in their cozy little family unit, especially considering that she was closer in age to her stepmother than either of her siblings. His second marriage had changed Ed McGill, turning him into the family man he’d never been when he’d been married to Maureen. Now he made a point to be home every evening for dinner, to spend quality time with his youngest children, and to support his wife’s career as a fashion photographer. He helped his children with their homework at night and accompanied them on outings every weekend, even if it meant simply watching them on set while his wife worked at some exotic locale.

Stacey had left going to their apartment for as long as she could, waiting until the last possible minute on Christmas Eve morning. She’d been doubly surprised and pleased when, upon opening her dorm room door that morning, bags in hand and ready to leave, she’d found Sam Thomas standing there with a ready smile.

“What are you doing here?!” she’d exclaimed, unable to help smiling back. Sam was looking especially adorable in a long navy peacoat, a colorful scarf, and a black winter hat covering his mop of brown curls. He had, as usual, an air of mischief about him, looking as if he was resisting the urge to divulge some juicy secret.

“Same thing as you,” he’d replied with a wink, “putting off going to the madhouse until the last possible second.” He’d held out one gloved hand in offering. “Wanna spend the day together, and work up the courage to face the inevitable?”

She’d smiled. “Sure,” she’d agreed, setting her suitcases back inside the entryway and accepting his proffered hand. “What did you have in mind?”

What he’d had in mind was a whirlwind tour of New York City at Christmastime. They’d walked down Fifth Avenue and admired the displays in the store windows. They’d gone skating at Rockefeller Center and had their picture taken in front of the famous tree. They’d grabbed lunch from street vendors near Lincoln Center. They’d traipsed down Broadway and discussed the shows on offer, commenting on which ones had garnered the largest Christmas Eve crowds. They’d even indulged in dinner at Tavern on the Green, her favorite restaurant. She’d insisted on paying for their meal, and though he’d protested at first, he’d eventually acquiesced, but only after extracting a promise from her that he could pay for the night’s final entertainment. He’d then tied his scarf around her eyes and led her from the restaurant, staving off all her guesses as to what he’d had in mind.

Sam had gamely guided her around in the cold December air. It had only taken her a couple of minutes to realize that he was leading her in circles, but considering he’d kept one arm securely about her waist, she found she didn’t mind – at first. She’d lost her sense of direction and her perception of time as they’d wandered, however, and just as her feet really began to ache, he’d abruptly come to a halt. 

Now they were standing somewhere in relative quiet, apparently waiting for something. Her feet were pounding in her boots, and they’d been standing still long enough for the chill to start seeping back into her bones. “Sam,” she implored, rubbing her hands together in a vain attempt to generate some warmth, “how much longer is this going to take?”

“Two seconds,” he promised, whipping the scarf from her eyes. “Voila!”

She blinked, her senses orienting again. They were standing near the entrance to Central Park. Five feet away a gaudy horse-drawn carriage waited, the driver bundled up against the cold in old-fashioned clothes, a gigantic woolen scarf, and an oversized top hat.

Stacey slowly turned to face Sam, who was still grinning. “Seriously?” she asked, feeling not the least bit amused. “This has to be the most cliché, touristy thing ever.”

He laughed. “That’s exactly what I am, Stacey McGill, a clichéd tourist!” he joked. “C’mon, get out of yourself for five minutes. It’ll be a riot!”

She resisted his appeal, digging in her heels where she stood. She’d been on enough carriage rides to last her a lifetime, and didn’t particularly feel like ending what had been an amusing day with a genial companion with this tourist-trap adventure. “C’mon yourself,” she responded tartly, a note of whine entering her tone. “Seriously, Sam, I’m cold, I’m tired, I just want to go – ”

The words choked in her throat.

“Home?” he suggested with an arched brow and a knowing look. “Okay. And where would that be? Your dad’s apartment? Stoneybrook? The dark side of the moon?”

Stacey sighed. “Fine,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and moving toward the carriage. “Have it your way.”

He helped her up and settled in next to her, tucking the provided blanket around her knees and giving the signal for the driver to move forward. Stacey sat back and braced herself. She’d taken a fair few carriage rides through Central Park in her day, and moving along the familiar route now brought back a flood of memories: delighting during her very first ride, as a child, snuggled between her parents; a cold trip alone, sent off by her father during one of their “Dad weekends” in junior high; the awkward ending to her relationship with Ethan, when he took her out on dates that consisted of increasingly romantic grand gestures to try to hide the fact that he was losing interest in her.

Sam casually slid his arm around her shoulders, rousing instant suspicion in her. She turned to him. “Why did you choose this?” she asked sharply. “And why did you turn it into such a big surprise?”

He was looking everywhere but at her. “It seemed to fit with the day’s agenda,” he replied with a shrug, his eyes focused on the passing scenery. “A perfectly cliché way to end a perfectly cliché day.”

She touched his face, seeking to draw his attention. “Sam,” she said softly, “I’m not looking for romance right now. Or a hook up.”

He snorted. “Neither am I,” he informed her as he faced her. His eyes searched hers for a long moment. “We’ve known each other for a long time, Stace. You can’t hide your feelings from me. I sense you’re upset about your holiday arrangements, so I wanted to give you the chance to enjoy some peace and quiet before the crazy comes.”

“I envy you, you know,” she said suddenly. “You get to go home to a huge house and a welcoming family, tons of brothers and sisters you’ve grown up with your entire life.” She averted her eyes, picking at the blanket on her lap. “It must be nice.”

“It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, you know,” he replied. “The Brewer-Thomas household is a veritable zoo, especially at Christmas. I get to see my siblings, yes, but there are also tons of other relatives flocking in for their annual visit. It’s easy to get lost in the chaos.” He drew her close, resting his temple against hers. “Sometimes I wish it was just us Thomases. _All_ of us Thomases, including Dad.”

Tears welled behind Stacey’s eyes at the ache of wistfulness in his voice. “I know what you mean,” she sighed in response. “Sometimes when I close my eyes, I wish it all away: the divorce, my dad’s remarriage… I wish things could be the way they used to be, when my parents were together, and happy. I miss those Christmases.” She sniffled. “I wish nothing had changed.”

“I know,” he whispered softly, hugging her close. “I know.”

Stacey bit down hard on her lip, not wanting to allow her tears to spill over. She felt silly and selfish and childish for feeling this way, but in this moment, locked in the security of Sam’s embrace, she could indulge in it, allowing all of the old hurt and anger to rise to the forefront, mixing with the newer sensations of resentment and jealousy and awkwardness as she thought about the long days ahead of her.

“It’s not that I hate them,” she said softly. “I _love_ my siblings. I love Samantha, and how happy she’s made my father. He’s a new man in a lot of ways… It just makes me wonder what I could’ve done myself to bring those changes in him, you know? Could I have been a better daughter in some way?”

“Who knows?” Sam responded quietly. “I’m twenty-one years old, a fucking _adult_ , and I still wonder why my father left us. What did we say, what did we do, to make him think that leaving was the best solution? Mom always told us that he left because he was selfish and didn’t want to be a father anymore – and _I get that_ , on a logical level – but in my gut, it still hurts. And we still wonder.”

He took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “At least you still see your father, and you know his ‘new’ family.”

“You think that makes it easier?” she mused. “It makes me know exactly how I _don’t_ fit in. Every time I see him – see them – I feel like a stranger intruding on their home life. The mongrel Dad brought home out of obligation.”

“I think wondering is worse,” he said. “I mean, I know that Patrick has a new family out in California somewhere, but that’s all I know. The last time I saw him was the wedding five years ago. Does he have more kids? I have no idea. All I know is that he’s still not interested in us. Not really.” He sighed. “At least your dad gives a damn about you.” 

They fell into companionable silence as the carriage continued on, huddled together under the blanket.

Just as they rounded the last bend, a light snow began to fall. Stacey looked up and blinked, first in confusion, and then in wonder. “Speaking of clichéd endings,” she murmured, nudging Sam in the ribs.

He looked up and smiled. “Snow in Central Park on Christmas Eve,” he intoned. “I don’t think you can beat that as far as ‘perfect’ goes.” He paid the driver, jumped out of the carriage, and took care in helping her down. “Thanks for spending today with me, Stace,” he said, holding her hands in his.

“My pleasure,” she assured him with a smile. “I needed this.”

“So did I.” He dropped one of her hands as they strolled out of the park, turning towards Columbia University. “Are you coming to Stoneybrook at all during the break?”

She nodded. “I’m joining my mom on New Year’s Eve. It’ll just be the two of us, but that’s okay. At least I won’t feel like a stranger in my own home.”

“Let me know if you need me to ride to your rescue again,” he teased, jauntily swinging their joined hands between them as they walked.

“You, too,” she replied, with a serious note in her voice. “I won’t leave you at the mercy of the zoo, you know, unless you want me to.”

Sam slowed to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Thank you for being such a good friend to me, Stacey. Seriously.”

She smiled as she touched his cheek. “Whatever else we may ever be to each other, we’ll always be friends,” she promised.

He searched her eyes for a long moment. “We’re good together,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed.

He raised her gloved hand to his lips and pressed a gallant kiss to her fingers. “Merry Christmas, Stace.”

She smiled. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”


End file.
